by Tayte, Megan
‘What is it?’ I said. ‘Out with it, Jude.’
Grim-faced, he obeyed: ‘I don’t know this Rafe. You say he has the tattoo and he’s a Cerulean. But he’s not one of us.’
He waited for the words to sink in.
‘I don’t understand,’ I said stupidly.
‘Me either,’ said Cara.
‘Totally lost,’ chimed in Grannie; then: ‘Oh look, there’s Harold.’ Her cheery ‘Yoo hoo!’ drowned out the second curse of the minute, this time from her grandson.
‘He’s not one of you,’ said Luke, ‘so he must be one of them.’
The word came at once to my lips: ‘Fallen.’
Lawless.
Merciless.
Godless.
‘It’s the only thing that makes sense,’ said Jude. ‘He’s a Cerulean, but Outcast. That’s why I don’t know the name. Michael must have recognised him as Fallen and told him to leave. I got Michael all wrong: he was trying to protect Scarlett.’
I squeezed my eyes shut tight against the tsunami of emotion fast rising up inside. To find my father – the innate need that awakened in me – and then find out at once that he was that. Like my sister.
‘Sienna!’ My eyes flew open. ‘Then she knew – then she chose him.’
I saw that Jude had reached the same conclusion. Did Sienna choosing to be with our father excuse her actions? I saw once more the old man slumping to the ground, dead, dead, and my stomach twisted. No. There was no redemption for what she’d done. For what Rafe must also have done…
‘So both your father and your sister are murderous psychos,’ said Cara. ‘That’s rough.’
‘But Rafe didn’t exactly act like a murderous psycho tonight,’ Si pointed out. ‘He saved Scarlett and Mrs Cavendish.’
At the sound of her name Grannie snapped out of a reverie and said to no one in particular, ‘Well, hello!’
‘Hello,’ said Jude politely. Then, to me: ‘You’re sure the man tonight was the Rafe your mother knew – that he’s your father?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He called me “baby girl”.’ Ignoring Cara’s delighted sigh at that revelation, I added, ‘And his name is Rafe.’
‘You know, dear,’ said Grannie Cavendish, tapping my arm, ‘I didn’t like to say so earlier, in front of him, but it’s a little rude to call your father that.’
We all turned to look at her. Her eyes were cornflower-blue and crystal clear.
‘Er, yes,’ I said. ‘But I’m not exactly comfortable calling him Dad.’
Grannie chuckled. ‘Well, I expect not, dear, after all this time not seeing him. And I quite understand you must be angry with him. I can only imagine how angry my Ryan would have been with me if we’d been estranged. But really, you ought not to use slurs.’
I looked around at the others and read the same thought on each face: Bless her; she’s gone again.
‘Slurs, Grannie?’ asked Luke gently.
‘Rake,’ she said. ‘Rogue, scoundrel, rounder, cad, tramp. It’s not kind to label people as such.’
Suddenly, the Lady and the Tramp singing made more sense.
‘His name’s not Rake,’ Luke explained. ‘It’s Rafe.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ she said.
‘Yes, Grannie, it is,’ said Cara.
‘No, it isn’t,’ said the old lady, indignant now. She threw the blanket off her shoulders and sat up tall and gave us a glimpse of the formidable woman she’d been in her day.
‘I don’t know why you’d be calling him that,’ she said. ‘I know that man. I knew him a long time ago. His name is most certainly not Rake or Rafe or whatever it is you’ve come up with. He’s the blue angel, the one who so enraged Peter. He’s Elizabeth’s beau, he’s Scarlett’s father, and his name is Gabriel.’
26: FALL WITH ME
Two little girls, playing in a meadow.
‘You be Mother, I’ll be Father,’ says my sister.
Her eyes are red and glowing.
‘I’ll be Mother, you be Father,’ I agree.
My eyes are green, they’re always green.
‘No, I have a better idea,’ says Sienna. ‘Mother’s weak – let’s both be Father.’
‘No. No! I’m Mother!’
‘You’re not a mother – you’re too scared to be a mother – you’re meant to be one of us.’
Her eyes are red and glowing.
My eyes are green, they’re always green.
But when I wipe the tears away, my hand is streaked with blood.
*
Hush-a-bye Scarlett
On the tree top,
When the wind blows
The cradle will rock.
When the bough breaks,
The cradle will fall,
And down will fall baby
Cradle and all.
And down will fall baby
And
down
will
Fall
*
Scarlett, are you awake?
No.
Why are you here?
Sleeping.
But why here – on the island?
Away from people. Away from him.
Him?
Gabriel. Mr Fallen himself.
Gabriel. Your father. Tell me, now that you know, do you forgive him?
For what?
For leaving you. For being what he is. For taking your sister. For not taking you.
What does it matter?
What does it matter?
Oh go away.
*
Peter was in his counting house,
Counting out his money.
Alice was in the parlour,
Eating bread and honey.
Elizabeth was in the garden,
Hanging out the clothes,
When down came a blackbird
And pecked off her nose.
Elizabeth was at her memory wall,
Thinking of times so blue.
Sienna was where the Outcasts go,
Dreaming of murders new.
Scarlett was in the garden,
Gazing out to sea,
When up came the devil himself
And said, ‘Come, baby girl, Fall with me.’
27: SOME KIND OF HOLD
When I woke the next day, my first awareness of my surroundings was the clanking of old plumbing. It was a familiar sound, but not entirely comforting. It wasn’t the sound of home – of the cottage, of Luke. And I wanted the cottage, I wanted Luke, because…
My eyes flew open and I bolted upright with a shuddering gasp.
‘What!’ Jude flew into the room through the connecting door, scanning wildly for the threat.
But there was no threat.
‘It’s okay,’ I told him. ‘I just woke up and remembered.’
He sagged against the wardrobe. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m edgy. But we’re safe here, you know that.’
Here being the island. I’d wanted, more than anything, to go home with Luke – to sleep away the rest of the wretched night and wake up in his arms when the sun had chased away all the shadows. But I could barely stand, I was so exhausted, and Luke and Jude had decided I couldn’t be alone in the cottage in the state I was in – especially with the leader of the Fallen promising to ‘see me soon’ – so I’d let Jude bring me back to the sanctuary of my old bedroom.
Jude walked over to the bed and sat down on its edge and peered at me. ‘You okay?’
‘Had better nights,’ I admitted.
‘You cried out a lot. I came in twice, but I couldn’t wake you.’
I flushed, embarrassed, and apologised.
‘Nothing I haven’t seen before,’ he said quietly.
He was right. The night after I’d learned my sister was a devoted follower of the Fallen, I’d been ripped apart by nightmares. In the end, he’d climbed onto the bed and held me. But that was then – before I returned to Luke. Now, there was a little more distance between us.
‘Seems I don’t cope
well with discovering immediate family members are…’ I couldn’t find the word. ‘… not good,’ I finished eventually.
‘I’m sorry, Scarlett. I had no idea about your father.’
‘You didn’t know.’
Jude was quick to follow my train of thought. ‘But Evangeline did. I don’t know why she didn’t tell you.’
‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? She thought if I knew I’d meet him and be convinced to come to his side, like my idiot sister.’
He winced.
‘Still, Jude?’
He knew what I meant: after everything, you still think of her, miss her, love her.
‘I try not to,’ he said.
We were silent for a while, lost in our own pain. I tortured myself by replaying the previous night’s tortuous conversation – until I hit a snag.
‘Jude, you said that Michael recognised Gabriel as one of the Fallen. How?’
‘By his scars. Didn’t you notice them?’
I had. On the boat, in the moonlight, I’d noticed crisscrossing within his stubble. And last night, I’d seen that his tattoo was bisected by a jagged line.
‘Yes, I noticed he’s scarred. But I didn’t exactly focus on that. Scars are something to see past.’
‘Not when they represent sins.’
I gaped at him. ‘They’re punishments? Who the heck is going around doling out scars for sinners?’
‘No one. It’s simple: you cross the line, use your light when you shouldn’t, and you bleed. The more times you abuse the power, the more scars you have.’
‘So Ceruleans have no scars, and the Fallen have plenty. Jude, you never told me this.’
He didn’t reply. He stood up and turned around and pulled off his t-shirt. And I saw, between his shoulder blades, a wide, thick slash of scar tissue. Jude had bled.
Jude had bled?
And then I understood. Cara. He’d healed her when he knew he was not meant to. And he’d hidden from us all the price he’d paid for that, the brand of the sinner he now carried.
As he readjusted his shirt I got off the bed and went to him. ‘You did a good thing that day,’ I told him. ‘She deserved to be healed.’
‘But I bled, Scarlett. And it hurt. A lot. And now I have that scar for life. Imagine ten more wounds – twenty – a hundred. Imagine what kind of person you have to be to keep getting those scars.’
Before I could answer, he grabbed my arm and said urgently, ‘He’ll come to you, Scarlett. Luke told me everything on the phone last night after you were asleep. If he was on the boat, in the graveyard, at the home – he’s been stalking you. He’ll come again. Gabriel wants you. He wants to get inside your head, manipulate you, poison you, make you one of them.’
‘Hey!’ I shook off his hold. ‘Calm down, will you? And give me some credit. I’m not going to skip off to join a gang of maniacs just because long-lost Daddy crooks his finger.’
I expected a smile, but Jude’s frown only deepened. ‘Sienna would have thought that too. She’s the stubbornest person I’ve ever met, and she was so against them when we were together. I know she wasn’t lying when she said she loved me, that she wanted to be with me.’
He began walking around the room as he talked, and the faster he walked, the faster he talked, until I was struggling to keep up:
‘Something Daniel said got to her, and she went with them and stayed with them. The Fallen have some kind of hold over her. I can’t work out what it is – I’ve thought about it endlessly. But it sure as hell isn’t her passion for murder. I don’t believe that. I know what she is now, I know what she did. But there’s more to it than we saw that day. She can’t have gone from being the girl I loved to that monster in the alley. She’s an actress. She admitted as much in her diary, remember? Said she put on an act to the world, but with me she was real. It’s not her. It’s him, I know it. Gabriel. Who says he’ll see you soon.’
He collapsed onto the sofa by the window. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘That was... torrential.’
I sat next to him. ‘Don’t be sorry. We should have talked about this ages ago – about her and you and how you’re doing.’
‘Why? It doesn’t change anything. It’s all still a mess.’
‘Yeah, it is.’
He pulled at a loose thread on his jeans. I stared into space, thinking.
Belatedly, I realised the significance of his earlier words. ‘Did you say you and Luke talked on the phone?’
‘Yes. At length. You know, he’s a decent guy.’
I smiled. ‘It hadn’t escaped my attention.’
Jude managed to smile back. He looked haunted, I thought, but at least better than he had last night – the dark circles under his eyes were gone, his skin had some colour and he was squeaky clean. The restorative power of sleep and soap.
I looked down at myself. Pyjamas slung on hastily last night. Skin grubby and grey. Hair limp and stinking.
‘I need to wash,’ I announced.
‘Bathroom’s just as you left it,’ said Jude. ‘There’s more of that bubble bath stuff – Evangeline stocked you up.’
I looked around the room. It was just as I’d left it months before. A clear message from Evangeline: there’s a place for you here still.
‘Speaking of Evangeline…’ I arched an eyebrow.
‘She knows you’re here, but not why,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think it was my place to tell her that. She’s keen to see you when you’re ready. Do you want me to come with you?’
‘Thanks, but no.’ I added grimly: ‘I can manage my family myself – whoever they may be.’
A knock on the door made us jump.
In the time it took me to call ‘Who is it?’ Jude was on his feet and halfway to the door. He really was on edge. But at the muffled reply ‘Estelle’ he stopped in his tracks.
‘Come in!’ I yelled.
The door opened and Estelle’s head appeared, peeking in.
‘Hey!’ she said. ‘Little birdie told me you were here.’
Jude rolled his eyes. ‘Adam has all the discretion of a paparazzo.’
‘Come in,’ I repeated, patting the sofa beside me.
Two steps into the room she sniffed and wrinkled her nose. ‘What is that stink?’
‘Smoke,’ I said.
‘What!’
Jude had gone over to the connecting door to his room. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said. ‘But if you decide you want company with Evangeline, just knock for me, Scarlett.’
I nodded and he closed the door behind him.
‘What’s happened?’ demanded Estelle as she sank down next to me.
So, somewhat wearily, I narrated the events of the past week or so – since Estelle had come to the cottage for the girly chat. She listened attentively, and other than her eyes getting steadily wider, she reserved her reaction to the end.
‘Scheisse!’ she breathed.
‘Huh?’
‘German for… oh, never mind. Lady that I am, I’ll settle for, “Golly gosh!” Scarlett, what will you do?’
‘Talk to Evangeline,’ I said. ‘Again. Though what hope I have of getting the full truth from her I don’t know.’
‘I don’t know either. She holds back, that’s clear. Because she’s all about protecting people. I mean, you can see why she didn’t tell you that Gabriel was your father.’
‘I thought you were up in arms against Evangeline?’
Estelle shook her head. ‘I challenge her, it’s true. But I have a lot of respect for her. We’ve been talking, and she’s taking me seriously. I think she’s coming to see the old way can’t continue forever, and we need to make changes.’
‘Wow!’ I said. I wanted to ask more, but now wasn’t the time. ‘Estelle, I could do with getting on.’
‘Sure. I have to get back to the baby anyway – he’s cranky today.’ She leaned over to hug me, and then thought better of it. ‘You seriously stink,’ she said.
‘Thanks for that.’
She crossed the roo
m, and then paused with her hand on the doorknob and looked back at me. ‘Can I ask, about your father –’
‘Gabriel. I can’t think of him as “my father”.’
‘Right. Sorry. But after you talk to Evangeline, after you go home, when he comes for you, what will you do?’
I glanced at the door to Jude’s room. ‘Gabriel wants you,’ he’d said. ‘He wants to get inside your head, manipulate you, poison you, make you one of them.’
I gave Estelle my answer: ‘If he wants to talk, I’ll hear him out.’
28: BEGUILE
I couldn’t take another tête-à-tête in the conservatory, not with that ‘truth will set you free’ poster staring us in the face. So when I found Evangeline downstairs, I suggested that we took a walk together.
‘I know just the place,’ she said. ‘Just give me a moment to get ready.’
I waited for my great-grandmother outside the main door, sitting on a wooden bench. I was calm – strangely calm, given what was to come.
When Evangeline appeared a few minutes later, I had to choke down a laugh. From the ankle up she was, as ever, a beautiful, elegant lady, dressed in a yellow shift dress with coordinating fluffy wrap. But gone were her usual dainty heels and in their place was a pair of Adidas trainers.
She caught me looking and smiled ruefully. ‘At my age, dear, when it comes to taking a walk on uneven ground, one has to sacrifice vanity for practicality. I learned that the hard way last month when I lost my footing in the top field and broke my hip.’
‘Oh!’ I said quickly. ‘I’m sorry – are you all right now?’
‘Of course. I was barely lying there a few minutes before the cavalry arrived and fixed me up. But it was rather embarrassing, so afterwards, when Jude bought me these’ – she gestured to her footwear – ‘I thought I’d better use them.’
She took a look at my feet. ‘Now you, Scarlett, are much more sensible. You live in these trainer things, I see.’
‘Can’t walk in heels. My mother wears them all the time, though. It used to drive my father mad because they made her taller than him.’
I watched Evangeline for some flicker of reaction at the mention of my father, but she simply linked her arm with mine and said, ‘Come on, dear. I’ll show you a special part of the island.’
